


Porcelain Goes To Shards

by leiascully



Series: Five Times Kara Thrace Kissed A Girl And Liked It [6]
Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Community: bsg_pornbattle, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-12
Updated: 2010-01-12
Packaged: 2017-10-07 05:18:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The second time the Admiral invites you to dinner, you frak her standing up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Porcelain Goes To Shards

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: "Pegasus"-era  
> A/N: The prompt was "standing". A sequel of sorts to my other Kara/Cain piece.  
> Disclaimer: _Battlestar Galactica_ and all related characters belong to Ronald Moore, NBC Universal, Sci-Fi Channel, and Sky One. No profit is made from this work and no infringement is intended.

The second time the Admiral invites you to dinner, you frak her standing up. You're standing, anyway - she's bent over her nice silverware and her beautiful china, the table runner balled in her hands as you thrust into her, the dildo grinding against your clit just right. You frak her harder, wanting to hear her scream in ecstasy, but she's quiet, grunting a little but nothing more. Her dark hair falls over her face. Suddenly she turns her head to look at you, pushing herself up on one elbow, her eyes so fierce and full of exquisite vicious need that you come hard, shuddering against her. You collapse over her.

"Frak me," she orders.

"Oh gods," you pant against the damp ridge of her spine. The dildo is almost sliding out of her.

"Frak me and that's a command," she says, almost hissing the words, and you straighten up and shove back into her until the edge of the table is pressed into the crease of her hips, and she's shivering under you, still watching. You drag your nails down her back, just hard enough to leave red welts, and she narrows her eyes with pleasure. She's gritting her teeth and you're sure she's on the edge. You reach forward and cup her breast, rolling her nipple hard between your thumb with the ring and your forefinger, and finally, gods, finally she cries out and writhes under you, her eyes locked with yours the whole time, and gods, that authority and intensity in her has you breaking into a million pieces, just like the plate that's fallen off the table and lies in splinters on the deck.


End file.
